


Devil May Cry

by RRHand



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, BAMF Joyce Byers, Barbara "Barb" Holland Lives, Billy Hargrove & Eleven | Jane Hopper Friendship, Billy Hargrove-centric, Bisexual Barbara "Barb" Holland, Bisexual Billy Hargrove, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/M, Found Family, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Harringrove, I know, Kinda Jim Hopper Bashing, M/M, Max and Billy are not siblings and she isnt in this fic, Monster Hunters, Monster! AU, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protective Billy Hargrove, Protective Steve Harrington, Sad, Soft Billy Hargrove, Supernatural Elements, Vampire Steve Harrington, Werewolf Billy Hargrove, and multiple characters, and neither does billy, i dont like cops, just like, maybe slightly ooc? in the sense that theyre 80 years old supernatural monsters, unrestrained use of curse words by the narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25980157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RRHand/pseuds/RRHand
Summary: Normally Billy wasn’t all that accommodating about their living situation - sure, for a guy that had lived in the woods for months, he was picky. But there was something about living in a place that smelled like vampires that were not Steve that grated on his nerves. However, even Billy had to agree that this was a sweet, sweet deal. That Mr. and Mrs. Harrington fucked off somewhere else after living for only a few years in Hawkins also helped. The house didn’t even smell like those parasites anymore when they moved in, just dust and mold. Now, one week and a thorough cleaning later, it smelled like sun, pine trees, fur, and faintly like blood - after almost half a decade together, a combination that Billy could almost call home.a.k.a. Billy is a werewolf, Steve is a vampire, Hawkins is weird and they save the day.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove & The Party, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Eleven | Jane Hopper & Billy Hargrove, Jonathan Byers & Billy Hargrove, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers & Billy Hargrove, Joyce Byers & Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington & The Party, Will Byers & Billy Hargrove
Comments: 6
Kudos: 61





	1. the light will shine through the rain

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thanks for tuning in!  
> This is the first part of three and the rest should be posted soon! Kudos and constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoy this!
> 
> PS: this story has been 100% inspired by [Zayacv's](https://zayacv.tumblr.com/post/190606768450/story-of-vampire-and-werewolf-continues-xd-and-it) [incredible work](https://zayacv.tumblr.com/post/617674506455105536/finally-full-comic-my-previous-post-with) on tumblr!!!

**November, 10**

Normally Billy wasn’t all that accommodating about their living situation - sure, for a guy that had lived in the woods for months, he was picky. But there was something about living in a place that smelled like vampires that were not Steve that grated on his nerves. However, even Billy had to agree that this was a sweet, sweet deal. That Mr. and Mrs. Harrington fucked off somewhere else after living for only a few years in Hawkins also helped. The house didn’t even smell like those parasites anymore when they moved in, just dust and mold. Now, one week and a thorough cleaning later, it smelled like sun, pine trees, fur, and faintly like blood - after almost half a decade together, a combination that Billy could almost call home. 

They were doing what they always did when they moved cities - find somewhere they could borrow a house from either a friendly coven that Steve had run with before or a pack known to Billy, find a small local shop to work or a high school they could frequent without too many questions, chill for a few years and get the fuck out before anyone even thought about the fact that those two kids looked exactly the same as they were six or seven years ago. Steve liked bigger cities since, with his pale skin and his supernatural beauty, blending in was much easier, but Billy needed, preferably, a big forest, so they compromised - medium urban centers with big natural parks.

Hawkins, though, was a different thing. Neither Steve nor Billy wanted to go to a small town, much less in the middle of Fuck All, Indiana. Billy didn’t much care for the cold - even if Steve liked it - nor the lack of entertainment, nor the fact they would have to work the triple to make sure no one thought they were anything but high school friends. But one of Steve’s oldest friends got in contact saying they might want to take a look and Billy’s circles started to whisper about another Gate and the Hawkins National Laboratory - so they went. Borrowed the house from the Harringtons, left New Orleans’ pleasant weather and braved the miserable cold of Indiana in November. 

Steve enrolled in the high school as soon as they got there, selling the story that he was Mr. and Mrs. Harrington's son that came back after living with his grandmother. His winning personality and easy-going way opening doors and making friendships with the people they would need to know to discover whatever sketchy shit was going down there. The plan was for Billy to enroll in the first days of December, a whole month after, but sketchy shit was indeed going down in this little hellhole of a town so the plans had to be moved up. In one single week, Hawkins High School got two transfer students. Not suspicious at all. And because they were not suspicious at all and needed to know what was going on - if it was what they thought, and they thought of otherworldly beasts, they were the ones with the best chance of defeating it and surviving - they were here. 

Here being in the middle of the woods with the Chief of Police, Jim Hopper, his deputies and every other citizen of Hawkins that was free in this windy, cold afternoon, looking for a boy that nobody had any hope of finding anymore. Will Byers disappeared on the rainy, cold night of November 6 and was reported missing the next morning. Three days after, the police station was desperate enough to call a search party in the woods near the Byers’ house.

So here they are, Billy and Steve, walking side by side, shoulders brushing and hands touching, bringing the rear of the seven-person group they were in. A little ahead was the Wheeler chick, who Steve bonded with instantaneously over their love of writing and her dream of being a journalist, with her boyfriend and missing boy’s big brother, Jonathan Byers. He was a little weird, if Billy was honest, but had been chill enough with him joining them and Steve at their table in the cafeteria yesterday, Billy’s first day of school. On Wheeler’s other side was Barb Holland, with her auburn hair and her glasses, drinking up every ounce of attention the Wheeler girl deigned her - he knew a closeted case when he saw one. Finishing off their group was the most bored-looking motherfucker Billy ever saw, Officer Callahan, apparently, next to Chief Hopper. Hopper was a big man, tall and bulky, enough that Billy never really let him out of his sight. Not even eighty years could make him stop taking stock to where big men that didn’t necessarily respect or like Billy were.

Steve turned his head to the side a little, listening to something far enough that not even Billy could hear.

“You got anything?” Steve turns to him, a mix of apprehension and disappointment in his face.

“Not really. Just animals and stuff. You know,” He shakes his head. “Forest-y sounds.” Billy knew, it was all he could hear too. Steve sighs. “No human sounds either, besides us. Definitively no lost human child.”

“Will!” Billy bellows. They did this once every few minutes. Everyone knew it was useless, but the kid was just twelve and they weren’t going to take any chances. 

“I was thinking about inviting them over,” Steve says quietly to him. “To unwind and all. Maybe they know something.” 

“If they knew anything, I don’t think they’d be doing this.” Billy answers, watching Wheeler, two or three steps in front of them, trip over something. Billy didn’t really have this kind of problem, the woods being where he was the most comfortable (if he didn’t count Steve’s arms as a place). Steve was just too fast and elegant to ever worry about tripping over rocks or roots. 

“Still. And it would be good for Jonathan to take his mind away from this for a few hours.” Steve replies. Billy knows he looks too fond and loving to have just met Steve yesterday, but he doesn’t really care and it’s not like there’s anyone around looking at them to realize. He thinks again how fucking lucky he is to have this, even if this is searching for a missing boy in a small-ass town in which they can barely look at each other and may possibly have to hunt monsters. Steve winks at him, smiling, and Billy can’t ignore that he would follow that smile to the pits of hell - can’t ignore that he already has twice before. 

The older man strides to the group ahead of them, Billy hot on his heels. 

“Hey, guys,” the trio slowed down for them to catch up. “Y’all heard anything yet?” 

“Not really,” It’s the Wheeler chick, with Barb nodding along. “It’s just tree after tree after tree.” 

“Yeah, and it’s getting dark. We’ll probably stop soon.” Holland adds. Jonathan just watches them.

“Do you guys want to come to my house later? I got a heated pool that hasn’t been used in years and it’s cold enough for it.” Wheeler looks like she’d go for it, but they all know it’s Byers who decides. If he doesn’t want to go, neither will Wheeler, and if Wheeler doesn’t go, neither will Barb. Jonathan looks a little dubious. 

“I don’t think leaving my mom alone tonight would be a good thing.” He says, not looking at them. “She’s a bit shaken.” 

“Doesn’t she have a shift tomorrow night? It ends near midnight, right?” 

Wheeler clearly digs the idea. “Yeah, she does. But I’m not sure I’m in the mood.” 

“I don’t know, man. Maybe it’d be good for you to take a breather. I’m sure this shit is really stressful right now.” Billy puts his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, the warm, steady pressure loosening up something in him, making his shoulders drop. He looks at Billy and shrugs.

“I mean, a heated pool?” He checks with Steve and gets a nod in return. “It could be nice.” Billy lets go and they resume walking. 

Steve gives Barb a charming smile. “This includes you, you know.” She giggles a little, clearly not used to cute guys not giving her attention - she was cute, shy enough for Billy not to feel even a little bit jealous. Billy could be a flirt, could turn on the switch and make suburban mom’s panties drop, sure, but Steve was on another level - he was just that charming. He cared for people and it usually translated over big smiles and friendly gestures. 

“Are you coming too, Nancy?” She asks. Wheeler doesn’t let her finish before she’s nodding her head.

“Great, guys! I can give y’all the address tomorrow. Do you knowー” Steve is interrupted by the Chief’s voice. 

“Hey, kids, that’s enough for now. It’s getting too dark, gonna be too easy for any of you to get lost.” They’re nearing the part of the woods they started from, the two other search groups already there. It was a quick affair to get everyone counted and in their cars headed home. In less than twenty minutes, Billy and Steve are home, taking a shower and washing off all the sweat and grime one could accumulate while spending the afternoon in the woods. After, Billy puts together a quick dinner and they crash in the living room to watch some TV. He dozes off with Steve’s hands in his hair. 

**_____________________________________________**

**November, 11**

The next day was a quiet one. They went to school, always in different cars, came back home, checked out the woods nearby the house - Billy running in his giant wolf form and Steve strolling in the middle of the trees - and then idled around the house waiting for Barb, Wheeler, and Byers. Billy dropped in the market to grab some beers and watched as Steve did his homework. Billy didn’t bother because, if he had to bet, he’d say they would be out this tiny fucking town before they could finish the school year, and he’d rather read some book regarding a subject he knew nothing about or some trashy fictional story about vampires just to piss Steve off than to study high school material for his fifth time. 

The trio showed up around 8:30p.m. Byers had a pack of beer in his hands and a camera around his neck. Barbara and Wheeler were right behind him. While Steve was making small talk with Wheeler, Billy was already getting a beer and going to the pool, Jonathan trailing after him, ripping his shirt off and diving in with his swimming trunks high on his thighs - just like Steve liked them. Besides, it wasn’t like it was bearable to be outside, in the cold, with minimal clothing, even with his body running hot as always. Another thing to dislike about Hawkins, because if there was something that Billy hated more than the cold was wearing clothes - like, actual clothes, made to prevent body heat from escaping. Billy would rather be naked than to wear buttoned-up shirts under sweaters under jackets and thick socks inside his boots and pants that had the goal of warming him rather than showing off his ass. 

Byers and Wheeler are in one of the three downstairs bathrooms, changing clothes.

Barb’s sitting in one of the lounge chairs spread around the pool, accepting a beer from Steve. 

“Not gonna get in, Barb?” He asks. 

“I don’t think so.” She gives him a small grin. “Maybe later I’ll put my toes in.” 

“Well, I’ll keep you company then.” He sits in the lounger next to her, with his hands behind his head and drinking his beer.

“C’mon, pretty boy, you gonna stay there with Barb in the cold? You two should get in here.” He says smirking, perching himself in the pool edge with his blond hair slicked back, and sends a wink their way. Steve gives him a throaty, genuine laugh for his troubles. 

“I’ll get in later. And it’s not that bad, stop being dramatic, Hargrove. It’s like 44º F.” He replies, stretching. Barb looks at them, laughing. 

“I came from a land of sun and heat, Harrington, you’re the one whose habitat is the cold.” 

“Where are you guys from, again?” Barbara asks, perching herself on the edge of the lounge chair. 

“I’m a Cali boy, Barb.” Billy says at the same time that Steve does. “Washington.”

“And you both moved to Hawkins” She puts emphasis in ‘Hawkins’ in a way that Billy doesn’t think it’s meant to be flattering. “in the same week? What a coincidence!” She finishes with a smile and they use Nancy and Jonathan finally coming out of the house to avert that specific fucking question. 

“Took your sweet time, huh, the two of you!” Billy hollers from the pool, making her all red and Jonathan look down smiling slightly. Nancy gets into the pool and Byers joins her after grabbing a beer. 

They laze around, talking about nothing and enjoying the warmth from the pool. Steve eventually gets in the water, showing off his lean frame, corded muscles under pale skin. Billy did what he could to not stare at him, but it’s hard when the man you want to spend the rest of your life with looks like a greek god. When their fingers start to wrinkle from the water, they go inside to dry off and put some warmer clothes. 

“I’m thinking about taking a few pics around the house, you mind, Steve?” Jonathan asks later, when they’re laying on the sofas - because of course this big ass house has more than one - spread around the living room, snacking on chips and resting off the alcohol, or, in Steve’s case, just resting. “Your pool lightning is the baddest shit, dude, it’d look awesome on Barb’s hair.” From the armchair, the redhead in question gives a mock salute and starts to get up.

“You sure about that? I mean, it’s dark and it’s pretty easy to get lost in these woods.” Steve asks, frowning. Billy watches from his stretched out position on the main couch, next to his boyfriend. ‘Boyfriend’ wasn’t really a word that Billy was a fan of, he would rather call Steve his life companion, his partner, his husband - all of them translated their loyalty and dedication to one another better than ‘boyfriend’ - but it wasn’t as if they could even use boyfriend in this hick town, much less husband. And for Billy to be able to call Steve husband, he’d also have to, you know, propose and actually make an honest man of him. His musings were interrupted by Wheeler. 

“It’s okay, Steve, Jon knows to not go into the woods around here. Besides, if they do get too deep, they just have to follow the house’s light.” She waves a hand around, barely raising her head from the sofa’s backrest. 

“Okay, then, sure!” Steve brightens up. “Just make sure to not get lost.”

“Yeah,” Billy adds, lazily. “I’m not gonna get up just to look for you two.” They laugh and leave through the glass doors that lead to the pool, Barb grabbing another beer on her way out. Nancy gets up to go to the restroom and Steve drops next to Billy on the couch. 

“You don’t need to worry about them, baby,” Billy says, quietly. “they’re grown, they know not to get in the woods.” Steve lays his head on Billy’s shoulder, sighing. “Besides, we can hear them from here. It’s okay.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” He smiles and slumps to the other side of the couch when they hear the bathroom door open. 

“Hey, Steve, what topic did you choose for the Iliad’s essay? I swear, Mr. Felps is cruel, who chooses Iliad for class discussion?” She complains loudly, still a bit drunk. 

“I know, right!” He sits up suddenly, his discontent with their literature teacher burning through his laziness. “Of course, there are a billion things to write about,” His voice is increasing. “but they’re so complicated to approach in an essay with a limited amount of words! C’mon.” Steve whines, flapping his arms around. Nancy answers something agreeing with him and Billy tunes out the discussion. It’s not like he wants to do an essay like that, but he wants even less to waste his energy complaining about it. Steve, though, takes to complaining like a duck takes to water - it’s a hobby, something that cheers him up, almost a sport - so Billy indulges him, and the fact that he gets all flushed helps his case.

He stays there, looking to the ceiling, trying to count how many crystals that one specific chandelier has when he hears a sudden and short female yell and Jonathan screaming “Barb!”. Steve and he are up in a hush, going outside just to see Jon running out of the woods, frenetic eyes looking for something. Barbara isn’t behind him. 

“I don’t know where she went! She was right there one second and then she wasn’t! We were barely inside the forest!” Jon wails. They leave Nancy and Jonathan by the edge of the pool and run to the brink of the woods. With a “stay there and don’t move” to the couple, Steve and Billy breach the first tree line. Their eyes focus right away on a can of beer, screwed up and with beer oozing out. By the can was what Billy thought was Barb’s footprints - small enough to be a woman, clear enough to be fresh. 

“I can’t hear anything. There’s nothing. She’s not running, she’s not fighting, she’s not saying anything, she’s not bre…” He cuts out, but Billy knows what he means. She’s not breathing. If Barb still is in the forest, and there isn’t anywhere she could be other than here, she isn’t alive anymore. 

Billy squats down, checks for marks. Steve had the best audition, but he was a tracker - knew what to look for, what to smell for. Barbara’s smell, a mix between strawberry and something home-y with the beer she was drinking, goes only a few meters into the forest before it disappears like it never existed. Billy looks around the small clearing, this chunk of the woods being more open, the light of the moon shining through the treetops, searching for anything that could help them find where she had gone. There’s nothing. 

“Her trail ends here,” He tells Steve, who is looking around above Billy. “it just disappears. Fucking weird as fuck.” 

“Yeah, I would say a whole goddam person disappearing without a trace is weird as fuck, sure.” He answers, distracted. Billy starts to get up only to be stopped by Steve’s hand gripping his shoulder and forcing him to be still. He moves his head and jerks it to their left, hearing something that wasn’t in Billy’s range yet - until it was. There were a couple of steps, but not human ones - dog-like ones - small rumblings could also be heard. Then Billy could smell them, something dark and disgusting and absolutely not from this world; he knew what they were. They were moving towards them, fast, and he could imagine those faces akin to flowers opening, preparing to sink their thousand teeth into anything that moved.

Steve bares his fangs. Billy crouches down and starts to unbutton the last two buttons on his shirt - there was no way in hell he’d rip his favorite shirt just to fight those asshole dogs, nah nah nah. Steve looked and rolled his eyes at him, like he knew what Billy was thinking, before opening up an arrogant, dangerous smile. Billy answers him with a smile of his own, mischievous and lewd, licking his lips, and then puts one hand on the ground and transforms half-way. 

He’s huge, transformed. Not as big as his wolf version, but still huge. This way he could still be only on two legs - with his pants on, to Steve’s frustration - what put him around seven foot two. His face elongated, his teeth came out, and then his face was a wolf's face. There was fur on his whole body. His muscles, already big in his human form, only grew. His shoulders widened, his arms swelled, his thighs thickened - his whole body remolded itself to become a killing machine. 

Steve grins and mocks him, knowing that those beasts were already coming for them, so there was no need to be silent. 

“You’re not gonna get on all fours for me this time, sweetheart?” Billy just grunts at him. The negative side of any and all werewolf transformations: no speaking. Steve didn't mind, was around Billy for time enough that he could almost decipher his growls and grunts - apparently, he confessed while drunk on blood one time, he thought Billy was really cute transformed. Steve was lucky he was too pretty to stay mad with, otherwise, Billy just might take offense. 

But it wasn’t just Steve that had his things. Billy did too and took his chance to watch Steve roll up his jacket’s sleeves, lick his fanged teeth and his eyes turn red. It was a fascinating thing, maybe a bit frightening for someone that wasn’t used to it. His pupils expanded and his brown irises slowly gave place to red, hazel eyes becoming crimson. Every time Steve got mad enough, angry enough, horny enough, the red eyes came out to play. It was hot as fuck.

After what felt like too late and too soon at the same time, the beasts find them. Billy isn’t truly worried - Steve and he know how to fight, know how to fight those things especially, and there are only around ten of them. It was a quick little clash, and despite not giving it their all trying to not make too much noise, shortly all those things are lying on the ground in different stages of destruction. Steve’s are mostly crushed, his hands stronger than necessary to break the not-so-fragile otherworldly bones. Billy’s are a little bit dirtier - and Steve’d say it’s because Billy is the most dramatic person in the whole world, which, in his opinion, is a little excessive - since his preferred method was ripping. Nothing without a head comes back to life, right? It’s with that in mind that he fights those creatures, ripping heads, arms, and the occasional heart.

Transforming back, he tries to clean his hands upon the closest tree’s bark, being only mildly successful. Steve hands him his shirt, ranking his eyes over his face and bare chest. Billy wouldn’t be caught saying this shit, but he understands Steve’s concern - while someone had to specifically hack Steve’s head out of his body for him to die and open wounds just closed without a care in the world, Billy was somehow more mortal, or as mortal as an immortal could get, getting bruises and with a, although rapidly, very painful healing process. 

“You always have to get dirty, don’t you?” Steve plucks a leaf out of his blond locks. 

“There are other ways of getting dirty that I, personally, have an inclination to.” He winks and Steve laughs, rolling his eyes. 

“We should get going, though.” The mirth seeps from his eyes, mouth turning down. “Barb is nowhere near here and they are still waiting for us.” He motions toward the house. 

“Yeah, and this is counting on them actually obeying and staying there.” Billy grabs his hand and just lets it go when Jonathan is already on their eyesight. 

He’s sitting on the edge of one of the loungers, elbows on knees, head on his hands. Rises his head briskly as they breach the tree lines, but slumps down the moment he sees it’s just them, not a redheaded girl. Nancy’s nowhere to be seen.

“Jonathan, where’s Wheeler? Tell me she didn’t go into the woods too.” Billy is the one to break the silence, too worried about the scrawny white chick to care about Jonathan’s despondency.

He looks at them like the world is ending, and Billy thinks it just might really be. “No, no, she’s inside calling Chief Hopper.” Steve moves beside Billy, intent to drag himself inside.

“I think I have his number jotted down somewhere in the kitchen.” Jonathan waves it away.

“Don't bother. We used it enough times in the last days to be printed in our minds already.” Billy looks down, feeling out of his element. Steve, though, sits down next to him, while Billy turns to look at the treeline, giving them some resemblance of privacy. 

“You know this is not your fault, right? Any of us could get lost in this woods.”

“Sorry, Steve, but you’re wrong on this one.” His voice is muffled. “I’m cursed. This town fucking cursed me - first my brother, now Barb. I should’ve kept her safe. I should’ve kept him safe.” His voice breaks, guilt slipping through. “He was only eleven.

“Hey, hey, I know it’s hard and I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but it’s been just, like, four days for Will and we lost Barb less than ten minutes ago, she couldn’t go that far. Nancy is already calling Hopper, we’re going to find her.” Billy didn’t know what he felt about Steve giving useless hope to Byers - if they found Barbara, it wasn’t going to be alive. 

He turns around and gets inside, keeping an ear out just in case whatever seized Barb came for them too. Nancy was on the phone, speaking.

“Yes, I’m sure she’s lost.” Someone says something on the other side that makes her glare at the wall in front of her. When Billy clears his throat, she motion for him to come closer, putting the headset between their heads. Billy catches the end of a sentence.

“...opper is very busy with the Byers disappearance, Miss Wheeler, I’m not sure he can make time for teenage pranks right now!” A woman’s severe voice screeches down the line and Billy grimaces.

“Look, Jonathan is here with me, in the Harrington House, we know how serious this is!” Her other hand gestures around, betraying the frustration that she must be feeling, but keeping out of her voice. “Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove were also on the search yesterday, we all know how severe the situation is! That’s why I’m saying you have to send Hopper here immediately. Barbara Holland is missing!” 

The woman sighs. “Look, the Chief got in right now, I’ll talk to him and get back to you, Miss.” Nancy doesn’t miss a beat, keeping the woman from cutting the call. “Thank you so much, I’ll wait in the line and keep you from having the trouble to call me back.”

She exhales again, dramatically. “Okay.” 

They exchange looks over the headset. Billy was honestly impressed with her - didn’t think Hawkins High’s little princess, honorary teacher’s pet, Nancy Wheeler, had that kind of fire, that kind of certainty and strength to demand attention as she did in the call. 

“Nice, Wheeler.” He says, slowly, raising an eyebrow. She looks down, a little embarrassed but keeping her ground. “You know,” She shakes her head a bit. “it’s Barb. I gotta get them here.” He nods, but the woman comes back before any words form on his tongue - it wasn’t his lifelong best friend that was missing. 

“Miss Wheeler, I talked to the Chief and he’s going to go over right now with two deputies. He advises to stay inside and not go anywhere. He knows where the Harringtons are. Have a good night!”

Nancy hangs the phone, a relieved breath leaving her. Billy nudges her shoulder lightly. “At least that. Let’s get them inside, Byers’s gonna need you now.”

“Yeah, Hopper’s gonna be here in 10 minutes, maximum. The police station is on the other side of the tracks, but it’s not that far.”

Hopper, in the end, did not take 10 minutes to get there. In fact, he took 37 minutes, every single one of them making Jonathan and Nancy more agitated and eager to go outside and search for Barb themselves. If needed, Billy would make sure by physical and violent means that those two remained inside the fucking house, but it wasn’t necessary, so he plopped down on the dinner table, between the glass doors and the kitchen and stayed. In these kinds of situations, Billy was just the brawns to Steve’s brains. He sipped slowly on his mostly cold tea and watched as Jonathan walked back and forth - went ‘till the hallway separating the kitchen from the living room and back until he was within arm’s reach of Billy again. Nancy occasionally tried to keep him from making a hole on the floor but was largely unsuccessful. Steve was perched on the countertop, his long legs swinging and his big hands playing with the mug he drank from. 

That token peace is broken by the sound of Hopper’s engine being killed off in Harrington's driveway. In a blink, the couple is walking outside, complaining loudly to the Chief of fucking Police that he took too long to get there. Hopper shushed them rapidly, not caring about their grumblings, and made his way inside the house, meeting Billy and Steve in the hallway. 

“So you’re the prodigal son, hun?” He asks, not bothering with introductions. He had seen Steve’s face in the search party yesterday, but didn’t have the time to do any probing and jabbing as he had now, apparently. He never knew that the Harringtons had a son, but it wasn’t like he was tuned in the town’s gossip.

“That’s me, Sir.” He motions to Billy, continuing. “And this is Billy Hargrove, he moved in this week too.” Hopper just nodded, not caring about the blond kid with the unbuttoned shirt and too-tight jeans that looked like trouble. 

“What happened, kids? They said something about a girl missing?” Nancy is the fastest of them and answers. 

“We came here to relax a bit, from the situation.” She jerks her chin in Jon’s direction. “Played in the pool, came inside and then Jonathan and Barb wanted to take photos around the pool. Something about the lighting.”

“Yeah, the pool’s lighting is the best.” Jonathan adds from his slumped position on the wall. “I was taking a pic of her right in the treeline, barely inside the woods. Then I heard a noise behind me, turned around, saw there was nothing and that was when Barb screamed. When I looked at her again, she wasn’t there anymore.”

“Billy and Steve went in to see if they could find her, but nothing either.” Nancy complements and Billy grimaces. Hopper turns, glaring at them in a manner that would frighten smaller men - but the fact that both of them were older than the cop by decades lessened the strength of it.

“You think a friend of yours is missing in the woods and you went after her, alone, in the dark with what purpose? Get lost too?” Billy had to contain himself to not roll his eyes. He’s most definitely not a fan of cops.

“We jus-” Steve starts, but Billy interrupts him. “Yeah, we didn’t know exactly what happened, if Barb was hurt or if there was an animal in there. The option was to let her alone.” Hopper studies Billy's face for a few seconds until Steve pulls his attention again. 

“We ended up not finding much, just the beer she was drinking. The can was all messed up.”

Hopper takes a deep breath. “Alright. My deputies should be getting here any moment, and then you’ll lead us to where you last saw her and we’ll take a look. You,” He puts a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “should go home and sleep. Take Wheeler with you. I’ll take your statement in the morning.” Nancy starts to move Jon towards the door. She gives an awkward little wave for them and Jonathan, a mock salute, and they’re out of the house. Hopper turns to Billy. 

“And you? Got a curfew to respect or what?” 

Billy shrugs. “Not really. I’ll make Harrington company tonight.” 

Whatever Hopper was going to say gets cut off by the doorbell ringing, his deputies on the other side of the door. Deputy Callahan looks just as bored as he was at the search party, but Deputy Powell looks alive enough to pick up his partner’s slack, in Billy’s opinion. The Chief fills them in quickly and soon they are heading outside, passing the pool and approaching the tree line, Hopper leading with his flashlight held high, Billy and Steve by his right and Callahan and Powell a few steps behind. 

The first thing they find, again, is the beer can and Billy starts to worry about those ten fucking alien dogs he and Steve massacred in that piece of the woods. They either try to steer the cops away from there or play dumb and pretend they know nothing about it - he wasn’t sure what option was worse. Billy didn’t smell that disgusting stench anymore, but thought nothing of it - who knew what those beasts’ biology was like? Not him, certainly. 

Steve is quiet next to him, while they wait for the cops to look at the can - Callahan is especially absorbed in the inanimate object - and the only pair of footprints on the ground. There’s nothing else to look at and the human nose couldn’t distinguish Barb’s faint smell from the earthly ones. The dark-haired boy was looking far ahead in the direction of the clearing, shoulders tense, face clear in a way that Billy knows is on purpose. Feeling Billy’s eyes on him, he turned, answering Billy’s raised eyebrow with a minute jerk of his head. _Let it go_ , it said. 

After some minutes of serious police work around the smashed can, they gradually get deeper into the woods. Billy’s lucky Steve tossed him a jacket when they left the house, otherwise, he’d be freezing by now. They walk in the direction of the clearing, Billy not doing anything, having decided that it would be more suspicious if he tried to steer them away from there. Billy laggs behind, not wanting to be near Hopper when he discoveres the carnage, but when they pass through the last trees and enter the clearing, Hopper’s _‘jesus lord_ ’ and Steve’s ‘ _what the fuck_ ’ pique his interest and he looks above their shoulders to see what was happening, and sure enough, his chin dropps too. 

There’s almost nothing there - only revolved ground, tree’s leaves, some rocks and a weird black goo that Billy knows was those creatures' blood. No dog in sight. No alien bodies with flower heads, no crushed breast bones or craniums, certainly no legs and heads tooling around. 

He picks his jaw from the floor and exchanges a look with Steve over Powell’s head, who had dropped down to examine further that creepy as fuck black gunk. Hopper turned around, scowling at them.

“You two know anything about this?” He gestured to the dark substance on the ground. Steve and Billy shook their heads.

“Hell no.” Was Steve’s eloquent response, and going by the Chief’s face, their shocked expressions were fantastic - maybe because the shock is indeed genuine. He groans in a low voice, completing with a _‘what the fuck is going on this town?’._

“Okay, the two of you go home, sleep this thing off and we’ll talk again tomorrow morning, meet me at the Byers’ house, alright? Maybe you’ll remember something that can explain this. Go on.” He shoos them, turning to his deputies and pulling his radio to ask for reinforcements. 

It is only when they’re inside the house, in their room, that Billy breaks the heavy silence.

“Okay, honestly, I don’t know what to say besides _what the flying fuck just happened_?” He sits on the queen-sized bed, head on his hands, elbows digging into his thighs. Steve heads straight to the bathroom, splashes water on his face and answers after a beat.

“Barbara’s gone missing. With not only one, but two supernatural creatures with enhanced hearing in the area. We fought those shitty little assholes,” His voice is a hiss, anger spilling through. With a slumped head, he holds the edge of the sink in a way that, if Billy wasn’t 100% confident in his control, the blond would fear for its integrity. “Hopper got here, we went back and their very dead, very crushed and ripped corpses were gone.” Their eyes meet through the mirror, despair so strong on Steve’s that Billy feels dizzy.

“Come to bed, love.” He says, extending a hand for Steve to grasp to. “It’s been a long night. Everything’s gonna be fine.” 

They’re already under the covers when Steve remarks.

“I know shit isn’t gonna be fine. You don’t need to soothe me. I’m older than you, you know.” He huffs against Billy’s neck and the younger man tightens his arms around him. Kisses his brow then his eyelids. 

“Yeah, I know that I don’t need to soothe you. I just want to.” 

**_____________________________________________**

**November, 12**

Saturday came with a soft sunrise, faint pinkish-yellow light entering the bedroom through the blinds. Steve was laying on Billy’s chest, arm draped around his torso and legs intertwined with Billy’s under the cover. He was unnaturally still, not breathing, just resting his ear on top of Billy’s heart. He liked to do that sometimes, remind himself that Billy remained here, by his side, heart beating and skin hot, giving him everything he didn’t have with his paralyzed heart and frosty skin. 

Billy came, very early into their relationship, to appreciate these mornings, where Steve was all pliable and comfortable and peacefully silent in his arms when normally he would wake Billy up with energetic talking and brief, quick kisses over his whole face. Not now - the kiss they exchanged was languid, passionate, tenderness and devotion seeping in. Billy dances his fingers in Steve’s back, making abstract forms in his ribs while they kiss, always trying to warm his skin up. 

“Mornin’.” Billy whispers, smiling against Steve’s lips. 

“Hey there, baby. How d’you sleep?”

“Hum,” He nuzzles the smooth brown hair. “Pretty okay.” He closes his eyes, hiding from the sun and shuffling deeper in the bed. 

“We should get up,” Steve’s voice is muffled, mouth tracing words in Billy’s neck. “Hopper said ‘morning’. I’m imagining he meant breakfast-early morning.” 

Billy sighs. “Fuck. If we’re gonna intrude in the poor woman’s morning, we should bring breakfast with us.” Steve nods into his skin. “It can’t be easy to have a young kid missing.” 

“It must be maddening. The not knowing, the anticipation… It fucks someone up.” Both of them lost people without being aware of what happened. Queer friends that just disappeared, werewolves that showed up dead without explanation, centuries-old vampires that were lost to them - but an eleven-year-old, your own son, they haven’t been through shit like that. 

Even with the tacit agreement, they lingered, dreading breaking the placid atmosphere, dragging their feet and dawdling around the house, brushing their teeth, putting clothes on, and checking the address of the Byers’ house with the police station. Billy was pouring himself a cup of coffee - there was no way he’d deal with that kid going missing on them without three cups, at least - when Steve hugged from behind, resting his chin on Billy’s shoulder and putting his cold hands on Billy’s chest where the half-open shirt didn’t protect him. 

“One day, I’m gonna start you on the art of layering, you can bet on it.” 

Billy chuckles. “I’m wearing a shirt and a jacket, sweetheart. You should be satisfied.” They stay there for a few minutes, breathing and just being. Nothing like two disappearances, one in their backyard, to subdue their chaotic morning energy. 

“We’ve been here for one week and I already miss the west coast.” Billy whines and Steve nuzzles his hair.

“After we’re done here, I’ll take you back to Cali. What do you think?”

“You know you don’t need to persuade me to go to Cali. I’m always down to go back home.”

“Alright. Cali it is. But first, the Byers’ house.”

They stop by that diner near the arcade, buy half of all their breakfast options and head back to the Byers’ house, which happens to be very close to their own. Billy is relieved to see the dirt-beige color that covers the Chief’s car parked in the Byers driveway. Before long, Steve is ringing the doorbell, Billy a step behind him, both holding bags with the food. 

He knows right off the bat that the Byers were very much like he had been decades ago - _white trash_ , people probably said in this standpat fucking town with their little judgmental eyes and big houses with pools and kings of high school. He could see it in the way the house’s paint was chipped, in the overgrown grass, in the clothesline in front of the house instead of being on the back. 

He could also see in Joyce Byers’ face. She was a beautiful woman, but life and a missing kid and the thick smoke coming from a cigarette dangling in her lips obstructed the view. Her shoulders’ slump, the frown on her brow, the fact that the woman was smoking at eight in the fucking morning of a Saturday - it all spoke of someone that works for a living, paycheck to paycheck. 

But she was fast. “Oh, boys, Hopper told me you were coming!” She declares, one hand waving around the smoke and another ushering them inside. “You must be the Harringtons’ boy!” Two quick pats are delivered in Steve’s shoulder with a fondness that Billy didn’t know could exist in such a single movement. She turns to him, a small smile playing in her lips. “You must be the new friend, Billy. C’mon in, c’mon.” 

They entered the house and Billy found himself being right since indoors felt like his own house felt up until his mother died - mismatched things thrown around in a disordered form that was very cozy and snug, safe in a manner that only well-lived places could be. Could be terribly worse, he knew. Maybe it was the motherly presence permeating the whole space, putting everyone at ease. 

Billy puts on his charming smiles, figuring that the woman was under enough stress to not have to worry about any more moody teenagers, one - Jonathan was one, Billy was sure - was plenty.

“Morning, Mrs. Byers. We are so sorry to barge in like that, especially on a Saturday and with all this situation going on.” Steve stops looking around, smiles, and, prompted by Billy’s voice, adds. “At least we brought breakfast, Mrs., as an apology for the intrusion.” 

Joyce was full of nervous energy, but, for one second, she stopped. Surprise appeared in her face and the erratic hand with the cigarette stayed lax by her side. Billy worried that they’ve done something, crossed a line they didn’t even know existed, but then she’s smiling like that was the best thing to happen in her whole week - and going by what Billy knew, might just be.

“Oh, darlings, you didn’t have to! And miss the ‘Mrs. Byers’, just call me Joyce.” She looks at the bags and takes another drag of the cigarette. “Well, since you have already done that,” Mrs. Byers shrugs and winks at them. “someone has to eat it, right? Come, Hopper, Nancy, and Johnny are in the kitchen.”

Jonathan chooses that moment to poke his head out of what Billy thinks is the kitchen entrance.

“Hey, man! You’ve made it! Oh, brought food, too, nice!” He slips back in and they follow Joyce to the kitchen, passing through the living room on their right and the dining room on their left. Hopper, Jon and Wheeler sat around the small round table. The kitchen is small, with a countertop alongside a wall with a window and a few cabinets around. Through the window Billy could see a little shack made of wood and cloth, then his heightened eyes zeroed on the “Byers Castle, home of Will, the Wise” and he ached for the sweet, caring woman next to him, whose little kid was probably lost forever. 

“Johnny, go get the plates,” Joyce waves around, cigarette still snug in her nimble fingers. “You two can start unloading this ton of food. Hop, you go get another two chairs.” With one hand she points to the dining table and with the other, grabs the random papers strewn around the wood. Nancy is up helping Jonathan and for a few minutes, the kitchen is a blur of movement and noise. It’s just when they’re served and eating that Hopper brings up the reason this breakfast is even happening. 

“Okay,” He explains, sipping on his black coffee and looking at Billy and Steve. “I already have Jonathan’s and Nancy’s statement, now I need yours. Then we can talk about what we found last night.” Nancy and Jonathan frowned. 

“What, exactly, did you find last night?” She asked. Steve doesn’t miss a beat. “He didn’t tell you two? We found a place in the woods full of a weird black goo.” 

Maybe Steve doesn’t notice, but the look Hopper throws Steve’s way doesn’t go overlooked by Billy. Perhaps the Chief doesn’t like not having the reins of this, although very informal and comfy, interrogation or he doesn’t like the fact that Steve spilled the beans of something that, for whatever reason, was supposed to be a secret. Billy is confused as to what Hopper thought would happen with four very talkative and nosy teenagers that have a friend and a brother missing among them. Billy is so not a fan of cops. 

“Weird is a euphemism, that as freaky was fuck.” He declares, moving the man’s gaze from his boyfriend to him. 

“Are you kidding me? Black goo?” That was Jonathan, turning to Hopper for confirmation. Joyce, seated in the middle of the Chief and Jonathan, just looks between them. 

“Wait, we are getting ahead of ourselves here. First,” He turns to Billy and Steve again. “What happened last night before Miss Holland got lost?”

The blond shrugs. “What they said last night.” He jerks his chin to the other couple. “We went to Harrington’s to chill and hang out at his wicked pool, try to take his mind off things a bit.” Another jerk in Jonathan’s direction. “Harrington, Wheeler and I were lounging in the house and Byers and Barb were outside to take a few pics when we heard her scream and Jonathan calling her name.”

Steve takes over. “We ran outside and he was talking something about her just disappearing. He and Nancy stayed by the pool and we,” A gesture between him and Billy. “went to see if we could find her. If she needed help or was hurt or if there was some animal. We didn’t know.” A deep breath. “We found nothing but the beer. There was no screaming, no one shouting, no animal sounds that we could hear.” He’s looking at the table and Billy can see the guilt in his shoulders, in the grimace he sported. It’s a guilt Billy’s familiar with, the guilt of losing someone that was under his protection, his responsibility - he wore that expression time enough to be able to recognize it. 

So did Hopper, apparently. At least, he could see something in Steve’s face. Billy steered his attention again, deciding that the more he kept Steve away from the Chief, the better.

“So we went back after just a few minutes. Didn’t wanna get lost too. Then Wheeler was on the phone with the station and half an hour later you were there.”

There was only silence after he finished, Hopper staring at them, Nancy and Jonathan hugging each other and Steve… he was looking over Joyce’s shoulder and through the window, eyes locked in the heartbreaking sight.

Joyce, though, even with all the desolation she must be feeling, was the one to break the stillness, reaching across the small table and the plates with food piled high to grasp Billy’s hand. 

“Oh, boys, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Just when we think things can’t get worse…” She rubs another hand up and down Jon’s back. “It seems like we can’t catch a break, huh?”

What the flying fuck is Billy supposed to answer to something like that? He really likes Joyce Byers - not just because of the similarities between their lives, but especially because of the differences. While that life had broken Billy, instilling habits that took years and a lot of patience and love from Steve to uproot, Joyce just seemed kinder. Sturdier in the face of chaos. An immovable object in the middle of a wave of suffering and tragedy. Billy didn’t know how she did it, but he also wasn’t a father, didn’t have a teenager at home depending on him and a little one, out there, needing to be saved. 

So he just gives her a small smile and it must be enough since she squeezes his hand and goes back to sipping her coffee and smoking. 

“And you guys are sure that the black goo is not Barb’s blood?” Nancy murmurs, eyes locked in her coffee mug. 

“Yeah, there’s no way that was blood.” Billy affirms, but Hopper counterclaims.

“We are not sure of anything yet.” 

“What?” Steve is frowning. “Of course that wasn’t blood. It sure didn’t look like blood.”

“Doesn’t matter, none of you heard anything that might explain that?” He’s met with heads shaking. “You sure about that?” He raises his eyebrows and his voice makes clear he doesn’t believe them. 

“What you mean with that?” Jonathan’s perks up, narrowing his eyes at the cop.

“Alright, alright.” Joyce intervenes. “Boys, how about we let the police do their jobs, huh?” She looks at the four of them. “Hopper, they’re teenagers whose friend is missing. They’re curious. Give ‘em a break.” She puts out the finished cigarette and lights up another one. Billy makes a mental note to, if he ever sees the woman again, be as soothing and helpful as he can be. He doesn’t think chain-smoking like that can be as innocent to a human lung as it is to his or Steve’s. 

“Now,” She carries on. “Do you think this has anything to do with Will missing?” Steve and Billy exchange a look. Nancy strengthens her hold around Jonathan’s back, his head dropping to her shoulder. 

The Chief sighs and, wow, Billy really doesn’t like this specific cop. Who does that to a woman whose son is missing? 

“Look, Joyce, we don’t know anything yet. She’s not considered missing yet - if she doesn’t go back to her house by tonight, then we will assemble a search party. There’s nothing we can do now and there’s nothing we know certainly.” He stands. “Thanks for the breakfast, Joyce. If we find anything, I’ll call you. And you,” He turns to the teenagers. “don’t get in trouble. Don’t look in the woods after Miss Holland. All you’ll do is get lost too.” And suddenly he is gone. 

Billy wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t relieved because of it - the Chief was focusing on them a little bit too much, and they being a bit too new, a bit too strange, didn’t help matters. They leave shortly after, but not before assuring Joyce Byers that she should absolutely contact them if she ever needed anything - Steve leaving his phone number and Billy saying that either Steve or Jonathan could get hold of him if necessary. They go home and spend the rest of the day on the sofa, hoping for a calmer Sunday.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i'm back, hope you enjoy this!

**November, 13**

Unfortunately, Sunday did not give them a break. Billy and Steve woke up with the phone, a ruckus on the other side that soon translated into ‘ _Barbara’s declared missing, the Chief is making a search from Mirkwood. Get Billy and be there by eight_ ’ in Nancy Wheeler’s not gentle and not calm voice. Billy is so done with this fucking town, honestly, but they’re in Mirkwood - the road closest to the wood between the Byers’ and the Harringtons’ houses - by eight.

They go in different cars - Billy in his blue camaro and Steve in his beemer in that god-awful color that he likes so much. There aren't any high schoolers in the group waiting to begin the search; apparently, two missing persons cases in less than two weeks aren’t incentive enough for teenage assholes to become semi-decent people. Billy doesn’t care, just joins the Byers, Nancy, and Steve in their little bundle by Jonathan’s car.

“Well, this was quick.” he remarks, after getting a hug from Joyce and a _‘morning’_ from the couple, looking to the ragtag team of people milling around waiting on the Chief. His right shoulder brushes against Steve’s and he crosses his arms. 

“What do you mean, Hargrove?” Nancy inquiries. 

“The Chief seemed a bit reluctant to do anything about Barb’s disappearance yesterday and now he’s calling a search this early in the morning?” he scoffs. 

“You think there’s something else?” Steve is frowning and looking over Billy’s shoulder. He looks behind him and sees Hopper’s car parking. 

“We’ll see soon enough, I guess." Joyce cuts in, nodding towards Hopper, who is walking towards the middle of the road looking at the group.

"Morning, everybody, thanks for getting here on such a short notice. For those of you who are not aware, Will Byers is not the only one we will be looking for today. Barbara Holland is missing too." He jerks his chin in Callahan's direction and the latter starts to pass around Barb's photo. "But not only her, as Henry and Dave have also gone missing after a hunting trip."

"Shit." Jonathan murmurs and Billy raises an eyebrow.

Billy should've bet on it, but it’s worse than what he was expecting. Two grown men, probably well armed. Whatever that thing is - and Billy thinks of something bigger, more threatening than flower-dogs - it’s growing bolder. First a kid, then a teenager and now adults - four people in just over a week. He casts Steve a worried glance. Things are getting worse and they would need to step up their game if they want to lessen this creature’s advances. 

Hopper keeps on talking. “We’ll split into three groups of five, each group with a police officer. We are looking for anything that might give us an idea of what happened, from trails and marks to objects that may belong to one of the missing.” 

Dave’s and Henry’s photos get to them. Billy commits them to memory - ingraining the black man’s lean frame, the high cheekbones and the laugh lines around his eyes; and the other man’s white, burly build - everything from his frown to the closed fist by his side. Billy rips his eyes from the pictures, turning to the four around him. Joyce looks heavenward, breathing deeply, and BIlly thinks about the high probability of her knowing all of the four missing people. Nancy and Jonathan still face the photos in Jonathan’s hand and Steve is looking ahead, into the woods, eyes glassy, like he isn’t quite present. 

Billy bumps Steve softly and he turns to give the blond a very small smile. _Don’t worry_ , his eyes say, _I’m going to be fine_. 

Billy knows better now than to believe him, knows that the disappearances and the situation is taking a toll on him - and also knows that there is nothing he himself can do but be there for Steve, so he bumps their shoulders again and settles close enough for their elbows to knock. The brown-haired boy takes a deep breath, the motion being as calming for him as for anyone else that actually had to breathe.

Hopper whistles and Powell comes closer to their group, to Billy’s elation. There is no need to be with the Chief if not extremely necessary. Before long, they are entering the woods, morning sun guiding them into the wilderness. He feels the trees around him in a manner he knows the others don’t, not even Steve. Billy’s connection to the earth, to the universe, never feels as alive and strong as when he is in a forest, among this living energy that calls to the wolf in his chest. He feels ancient and powerful and grandiose and magnificent, the monster inside of him, the monster that he is, claiming his righteous place as the apex predator of these woods. 

Steve once told him that vampires are not big on forests, not just because werewolves live in those, but also because nature renounces them. Vampires are dead, and as such, are unnatural creatures on God’s green earth, according to Steve. Billy isn’t really a fan of the idea of God, although he indulges his boyfriend. But Steve learned to relish the pleasure of being in that kind of environment when Billy and he got together, after staying away from parks and preserves for decades. He said he could feel Billy’s peace, could feel Billy’s energy calming, his uncontrollable and explosive disposition becoming raw and primal, one with nature and its whims.

Billy takes a deep breath, stopping for a few seconds just to appreciate being in the boscage - being in the rear of the group has its perks. Steve falls back, waiting for Billy, and gives him a smile when the blond catches up. They sniff a bit, as subtle as possible, but find nothing new. A bit of stale cologne and beer in the beginning of the woods’ entrance path but even that fades after a while.

Powell plows ahead with Joyce by his side, Jonathan and Nancy behind them, followed by Billy and Steve. It takes a whole hour for them to find anything and it doesn’t even happen with their group - Hopper’s finds it. Billy starts to hear some commotion by their right, in the direction Hopper’s group is searching, when Powell’s radio crackles and the Chief’s gruff voice comes through. 

“Powell, come in.”

Everyone in their group stops, looking expectantly at Powell. Steve and Billy glance, warily, at each other. No good thing would come from this, no doubt.

“It’s Powell, go ahead.” 

“Bring your group to my location, we found something. Over.”

Joyce makes a small, distressed noise and Nancy goes pale, muttering an _‘oh my god’_ next to Jonathan, who looks like he’s dying inside. If they found Will, Barb or the other two alive, Hopper would’ve just said so, but he didn’t, which means they either found one of them dead or found something that belonged to them.

“Roger that, Chief. Coming over. Out.” Powell puts the radio on its holder and turns to the group. “Come on, we’re meeting the Chief. Right this away.” And starts walking to their right, the five of them following him.

Billy knows they’re on the correct path to find Hopper and his group, though, how Powell knows that, the blond isn’t sure. But it isn’t like he is even a bit familiar to police procedures on this side of the law - his only dealings with the police were when the cops were breaking into queer bars Steve and he frequented while they lived on the west coast.

They’re with Hopper’s group in less than twenty minutes, but it’s more than enough for Billy to imagine every worst-case scenario possible - and going by Steve’s and Joyce’s faces, they’re doing the same. But it’s not a body they see when they catch up to Hopper’s - it’s little Will Byers bike. 

“Oh, god, please, no.” Joyce is the first to say anything, hands on her face and tears in her eyes.

The bicycle is in perfect condition and the only sign that something happened is the broken headlight’s glass. And it lays there, innocuous, in the middle of the woods, without a care about the world that is collapsing around it - this is the first physical proof that foul play happened. 

Jonathan hugs his mother - large teardrops running down her face - with a defeated expression, devastated. Billy keeps looking at that bike, and it reminds him of another kid’s bike, one that he had a change, but couldn’t save either way. Then looks at Joyce and recognizes the pain and the heartbreak and the agony she’s feeling right now - he felt that for the first time 61 years ago and Billy couldn’t or wouldn’t ever forget.

Hopper dismisses everyone in a quiet tone, preventing the rest of the search party from witnessing what it looks like when someone breaks, leaving Callahan with the task of getting the group to their cars. Steve and Billy hang back with Nancy, leaning against the trees, and let mom and son have a modicum of privacy. The officers stand a few steps ahead of the grieving Byers, talking in low voices and frowns in their brows. Billy tunes in their conversation.

“...think so. He would be small enough to fit, wouldn’t he?” Powell asks. Billy turns to warn Steve about the cop’s discussion just to find him already looking at Billy, head crooked slightly in the Chief’s direction.

“It would be a tight fit, but he could crawl in. At least, if he went in there means he went on his own. No one bigger than a kid would fit.” Hopper’s grave voice answers, head bowed. Billy still can’t see what they’re talking about, but it must be some kind of pipe or tube buried deep in the ground, if he was guessing. 

“Where does this end up, though? It’s in the middle of the damn woods.”

Hopper shakes his head, arms crossed. “I have no fucking idea. We’re going to get them home and then check this out. If there’s any chance this kid is alive, I’m going to take it.”

Powell hums and turns around, making Billy and Steve look to the ground and start walking up to the Byers.

Nancy puts a hand on Jon’s shoulder and asks with the gentlest voice. “You guys want to go home? You can come to mine if you guys want, I’m sure mom wouldn’t mind.”

Joyce leaves Jonathan’s embrace, shaking her head. “Thank you, darling, but I just want to go home.” She looks at Jon. “But if you want, you can go, honey. I’ll be fine.”

Jonathan regards Joyce with clear skepticism in his face. “I don’t want to leave you alone in that house, Mom.”

She smiles lightly at him. “Don’t worry about it, love. I know how hard being there without Will is being for you, but, for me, it’s home. Go with Nancy.”

Nancy holds Jonathan’s hand and they start to walk toward the cars. 

“You sure, mom?”

“Yes, Jonathan, I’m sure. I’m an adult, stop worrying, I can stay alone one night.” Joyce answers in a tired tone. 

They reach the cars parked in the road and everyone else has cleared out. Nancy and Jonathan, after a brief goodbye, get into her mom’s car and drive off. Joyce’s next, then Billy and Steve are driving home. 

Billy goes straight back to bed, planning to stay there, at least, until noon and sleep away all the emotional turmoil that the early morning caused him. Steve, who realized the mood Billy was in, lays down too, curling around his boyfriend’s heavy body. When Billy sleeps, he dreams of mischievous grins and red hair. 

**_____________________________________________**

**November, 14**

Jonathan ends up not going to school on Monday, but unfortunately, Billy and Steve go - and it’s hell. They could feel everyone’s eyes on them since they have the special mark of ‘people who talk with the dead kid’s brother’. Their enhanced hearing did not help either, so they spent the whole morning within earshot of the most absurd rumors. Steve even had to calm Billy down before he riped some guy a new one for talking about how _that’s what happens when you go around fucking anyone that would fuck you, your kid dies._

Dies. They found the kid’s bicycle, so he must be dead - God striking down Joyce Byers for being a single mom, according to town gossip. Does Billy think Will is alive? Not really, but he is a werewolf who couldn’t find the kid’s scent in the wood he went missing - he has reasons. Those little shits don’t have those, especially when they couldn't care enough to help with the search parties. 

Steve had it even worse, he could hear the whole school gossiping when Billy didn’t have that wide of a range, so both of them spent the school day containing red eyes and fangs or fur and claws from slipping through. Nancy didn’t have this exact problem, but she’s the girlfriend and was accosted twice before even the tardy bell, what made her stick to them for the rest of the day - between Billy’s muscles peaking through the half-open shirt and bad boy demeanor and Steve’s frowns and glares, no one else had the guts to taunt Wheeler. 

None of them paid much attention to class, though, just enough to write down the assignments - they were going to drop those off at the Byers’ for Jon. Despite allowing him to stay home a few days, Joyce didn’t want him lagging behind the rest of the class. 

So that’s what they’re doing at 4:30 p.m. - driving to the Byers’ house, Nancy in the backseat, Steve hitching a ride and Billy behind the wheel of his beloved Camaro. The windows halfway closed and the music barely audible, the car occupants’ moods on the ground. It has been a long day and it promises to get even longer - Hopper has another party search scheduled tonight, wanting to see if they can find anything during the night hours. Dumb fucker trying to get people out there in the dark, that’s what Billy thought when he first heard about it, but he isn’t the guy’s biggest fan. Everyone around them is getting desperate - eight days since Will’s disappearance, three since Barb’s and two since Dave and Henry’s - the lack of bodies just making everything worse. 

They’re pulling up in the Byers’ driveway, barely parked, and Billy can already hear the yells. It’s a bit too far and the engine is a bit too loud, but he recognizes Jonathan’s and Joyce’s voices. A subtle look in the rearview mirror tells him Nancy isn’t aware of anything yet, but Steve has his head slightly turned, definitely hearing it.

Billy kills the engine and Nancy shoots out like a rocket, anxious to be with her boyfriend. The screams can’t be heard outside the house by a normal human, Billy knows, so he hangs back a little, waiting for Steve to start talking. Nancy closes the door and he mutters, skeptically.

“She is saying she knows Will is alive and she talked to him.” Steve waits a bit. “Through the lights?” 

The blond looks to Steve while they get out, Nancy already knocking on the house’s door. 

“What do you think?” Billy asks. “I don’t feel like disregarding a mother’s instinct, especially with these freaky shit going on.” He grabs his backpack from the backseat. Steve just shrugs. 

The door swings open, startling Nancy, Jonathan on the other side of it. He is heaving, face crimson and eyes swollen. He wasn’t just screaming, apparently, he was crying too. Joyce appears behind him and she looks just the same, but with an air of determination where Jonathan just looked crestfallen. Nancy is petrified by surprise, leaving Billy and Steve to the lovely task of trying to both pretend they didn’t see anything but also break the ice and diffuse whatever was happening. 

“Hey there, we brought homework. Everything’s alright?” Steve asks, trying for casual and failing miserably. Jonathan looks a little overwhelmed, eyes jumping from Nancy to Steve to Billy and back.

“Hope we didn’t come in a bad moment.” Billy barges on, a light hand on Nancy’s back driving her forward, into the house. “We thought it would be better to drop these off before it got too dark.” His charming smile is in place. Jonathan steps back, letting them enter. 

Joyce snaps out of her surprise-induced trance and grins with wet eyes.

“Very smart of you, boys! Come, it’s not a bad moment at all, Johnny and I were just talking.”

But it is clearly something more than talking and Billy starts to doubt his decision to trust Joyce’s instinct when they step into the living room and the wall behind the sofa is covered in christmas lights and the fucking alphabet. The blond looks around, surprised to see that it isn't just the wall that’s dotted with lights - it’s also the rest of the house. Dozens of lights’ cords are dangling from the ceiling, spreading through the living room, going into the dining room and the kitchen in addition to the hallway. Well, they’ve seen weirder things, but Billy’s eyebrows go near his hairline anyway - he’s not sure if an explanation will make things better or worse. 

Billy’s not the only one - Steve is completely still next to him and Nancy’s eyes are wide open - yet he’s the one that recovers faster. Billy dumps his backpack on the coffee table, trying to chit-chat with Joyce all the way. Nancy is murmuring with Jon at his back and his own boyfriend is beside one of the armchairs, looking intently at the letters scrawled in the wallpaper. Billy is in the middle of telling a very compelling version of his day, minus all the Byers-related high school activity, when Steve interrupts him.

“So, what’s going on here?” He says, eyes fixed on the wall, and Billy could be mad about being interrupted, yes, but he’s too busy watching Joyce’s reaction to care. “This whole thing wasn’t here yesterday.”

Her hands are fidgeting, wishing for a cigarette between them, and she takes a deep breath before starting.

“Look, boys, you are going to need to keep your heads open to understand.”

“Mom, c’mon.” Jonathan protests.

“Hush, Jonathan. I like your friends and they helped us so far, I’m going to tell them.”

“Yeah, well, I also like my friends,” He scoffs. “and I’m gonna lose them when they realize how gone you are!” He finishes, seething. Billy hasn’t known Jonathan for long, but he never thought he had it in him to say shit like that to his mother. 

Just as Joyce opens her mouth to answer, Steve cuts in - interrupting becoming a habit, seemingly. 

“Wow, hey, calm down! Dude, we’re not going anywhere, so relax. Why don’t you let your mom explain this to us?” The words are for Jon, but Steve’s looking hopefully at Joyce. Billy has lost some of his curiosity in regards to the whole christmas-lights-and-alphabet situation, standing warily in the middle of the living room, watching Jonathan, ready to stop their fight from escalating. Billy didn’t stop Jon from screaming, but he sure isn’t going to stand by if Byers is in the mood to start swinging at his own mom - you never really know people before you get into their homes. 

Joyce completely ignores Jonathan, turning to Steve, and Billy can’t decide if that is because she doesn’t give a shit what that seventeen-year-old is hollering at her or because this is recurrent behaviour - for Jonathan’s sake, he is hoping for the former. Billy is not above throwing hands with a guy like that. 

“I think Will is alive and I’ve been talking with him through the lights.” 

Billy turns to Joyce, who is facing Steve down, daring him to laugh or doubt her. She looks genuine - as well as distressed and anxious, but that is to be expected from the situation’s nature - and her heartbeat stays steady. The blonde believes her. He only has one question.

“How do you know it’s him?” 

Her gaze turns to him and he can feel her surprise with the rest of the room, except Steve. Steve knows Billy doesn’t go against moms unless absolutely necessary - even less in fucking Hawkins with its National Laboratory making rumors that ripple across the country and its flower-dogs and its continuously missing people. 

“I know.” Joyce sits down on the sofa, a deep, relieved sigh leaving her. “He told me.”

“Told you through the lights?” Nancy’s low, hesitant voice asks. 

Joyce answers. “Yeah. I was here, last night, alone,” Jonathan lowers his head, but she keeps barging on. “watching TV. And it started flickering. And the light,” Two nervous hands gesture hastily to the lightbulb in the ceiling. “started flickering. And then the hallway’s light, that was off, started flickering too.” 

She rises again, hands trembling, and starts to pace in front of the sofa. Billy can see the full mental breakdown brewing, but can do nothing to stop it from happening. 

“So I got up to check, because, you boys know, short circuits can cause fires and that’s what I thought it was! But then that song that you and Will listened to all the time started blasting from your room and I...” She takes a deep breath, eyes watering. “I went in and everything was on - the lights and the fan and the cassette player - and I couldn’t turn it off!” A few tears run down her cheeks. 

Billy stays motionless with the rest of the room, waiting on Joyce. Jonathan is slumped against the other wall, Nancy by his side, clutching his hand. 

“I went in and I was so gone, as you said,” Her voice gets low, quiet, all that nervous energy no longer there, having consumed everything, just leaving a shell of the woman. “So gone that I asked if it was Will and all the lights in the house blinked together.” She sobs, tears slipping free. “So I put this up,” Joyce walks closer to the wall, brushing her hand against a ‘W’. “and I talked to him until I passed out, which didn’t take long to happen.”

"But it doesn't work anymore." Jonathan says after a few seconds of silence. Seeing Billy’s confused expression, he clarifies. “She tried to show me before you guys came, but it didn’t work. Nothing answered _._ ” Loathing colors his expression. “Much less my brother.” 

He slides down the wall and sits on the floor, his own fight, much like his mother’s, abandoning him. Nancy accompanies him. Steve is facing the letters again, looking puzzled. Billy decides to help the most vulnerable person in the room, so he goes and sits beside Joyce Byers on her lumpy sofa by her wall of letters and under her string of lights. He doesn’t really know what to say to the woman, but then again, he also doesn’t think doubting her will help anything - Jonathan has made clear what he thinks already. She has her head in her hands and elbows digging into gaunt thighs. 

He puts an arm around her back, leaning his head on her shoulder. Maybe, in some other moment, for someone else, this might be too much of an intimate touch between two people that barely met each other, but the contact loosens up a bit of the knot inside Billy’s chest and he imagines she feels the same with the shaky breath she takes. 

“I believe you, you know.” He says, quietly. 

She lifts her head and looks at him. “You do?”

And Billy can see how fucking tired that woman is. Joyce is spreading too thin, nearing her breaking point and it shows. It shows. 

“Yeah,” A bit louder, a bit stronger. Billy lets his voice carry the conviction that he feels. “yeah, I believe you. If you say Will is alive and he’s trying to talk to you, then he’s alive and trying to talk to you.”

Jonathan scoffs from the other side of the room. “Wow, man, what the fuck.” That draws Steve’s attention. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jonathan keeps on talking, slowly rising from his position. 

Billy lets Joyce go, getting up too. Steve takes slow, deliberate steps, moving closer to the middle of the room. 

“Why would you fucking believe her? Why would you give her hope?” Byers’ voice is getting louder by the word, but Joyce is still seated, just watching. “False hope! Desperate, irrational hope! Will is dead! He’s dead!” He’s screaming at the top of his lungs and even Nancy steps back. “He’s been gone for eight days! Lost in the woods! Or someone took him! Doesn’t fucking matter what happened, he’s gone! He’s not coming back! He’s not coming back! He’s not fucking coming back!”

He’s next to the table now and Billy and Steve inch closer to Joyce. Jonathan leans down, points his finger at his mom and hisses.

“You think that by not losing hope you’re making it better, but you’re just making it hurt worse.” Then he’s out of the house, Nancy hot on his heels, and speeding down the driveway - leaving Billy, Steve and a broken Joyce Byers in his wake. 

Billy drops onto the sofa again, adrenaline making his fingers itch to be used. Steve sits, somehow more gracefully than his boyfriend, and sighs. Billy feels defeated and going by Steve’s expression, he does too. Jonathan, as much as he is Billy’s friend, has Nancy, but Joyce doesn’t have anyone - at least, not anyone that has her back right now, because Joyce Byers only has her sons and one of them is missing and the other just left, enraged. 

So Billy puts his right hand on her shoulder and squeezes a little and Steve does the same. They stay like that for some minutes until she breathes out heavily and reaches in her back pocket for a smoke. The blond also grabs his pack - offering one to Steve, who declines - and his lighter, lightning Joyce’s cigarette first then his. 

After several minutes of thick silence, Joyce is all out of melancholy and that spark of determination Billy’s begun to associate with her is back, burning hot in her eyes. 

“Alright. That’s enough weeping for now, I think.” She pats Billy’s knee twice and stands up, turning to them. “You boys wanna a coffee?” She asks and walks to the kitchen before Billy can even comprehend what happened. 

“Yeah, I think I’m goin’ to need a cup after all this.” Steve answers, following her. 

Billy is the last to get to the kitchen, sitting in one of the mismatched chairs of the four-person table. Joyce quickly brews some and soon they have colorful handmade mugs full of black, strong coffee in their hands. Billy’s mug is an atrocious thing, replete with big dots of different colors that someone of higher station might call abstract art. Steve’s is handmade like Billy’s, with green, red and blue stripes from top to bottom. Joyce’s, though, is plain white but for the ‘ _love you, mom, W’_ in shaky black paint next to a crooked red heart and Billy’s heart breaks for the second time for this scanty woman next to him in her messy kitchen. 

Billy barely sips the coffee, even if black and strong is right up his alley - he just sits there and stares at the deformed heart in Joyce’s hand, thinking about the possibility of this little kid surviving wherever fucking shit those dogs come from. 

The first time Steve and he dealt with that stuff was a case of wrong place, wrong time. They’d been visiting Italy for the first time as a couple, Steve looking magnificent in the chill sun of his homeland, the Fontana di Trevi meager compared to Steve’s expansive splendor. Billy’s boyfriend was eager to see how Roma fared following the end of the War, despite seldom suffering bombings. They were meant to visit Rome, Venice, Napole and then, finally, Steve’s first clan in Sicily, but their plans were stopped short in Napole by a band of alien flower-looking dogs. 

After that Billy and Steve asked around, wanting to understand what the hell had that been, but didn’t find much beyond the fact that was the result of some lab’s experiments, that those aliens were from another dimension and that they should stay away. So, obviously, being who they are, both of them kept their ears to the ground and paid attention to any rumors. Usually rumors were just that, but two of those times Billy and Steve ended up fighting otherworldly beasts next to two vampire clans and a pack of werewolves. 

They never saw anything bigger than the dogs and never met anyone that went missing in a town suffering with that kind of thing and came out alive in the end. Much less made contact, came back. 

Steve is quiet in the chair close to him and Billy yearns for him. Yearns to hold his hand, to hug him, to feel his cold skin against his own - Billy doesn’t know what to goddamn do in this situation where they are starting to care for these people, where Billy actually feels an alarming responsibility for what happens to Joyce Byers and her two kids. Billy aches for his man because Steve makes everything better. 

Steve is the one to break the silence. “Joyce,” He looks her in the eye. “I’m with Billy on this. I believe you and I was thinking that we could try to talk to Will tonight again. See if we can find him, if there’s anything we can do.”

Joyce gives him a small smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for believing me, Steve, darling, but I don’t think we’ll be able to contact Will again.” She looks down to her half-filled coffee mug. “Jonathan was right when he said it didn’t work this morning. I tried and it didn’t fuc…” She trails off, the habit of containing any and all swear words of a mother with little kids still there. “It didn’t work. There’d be no reason for it to work now, right?” She shrugs.

Billy isn’t having it. “Wait, how could any of us know how this thing works?” His hands are gesturing minutely around the mug, a custom he acquired from Steve. “You talked with Will last night, huh? Maybe it only works in the dark, at night, or somethin’ like that?” She frowns and Billy adds, a bit peeved. “Look, the point is: we don’t know anything about this.”

The woman spoke with her missing eleven-year-old through the christmas lights and alphabet letters scrawled in the wall and doesn’t believe that she can possibly only do that at night? Wrong moment to become a skeptic.

“Well, it sure doesn’t hurt to try, and if it works we’ll start to have some idea of _how_ it works.” Steve adds. 

Joyce looks between the two of them, something close to astonishment passing over her face. 

“You boys are sure you want to try that?” Her tone takes a more mocking note. “Stay here ‘till dark with the crazy lady who talks to the lights?” She drops her eyes to the table, her fingers tracing the red heart absent-minded, and Billy can see the pang of shame - it can’t be easy to hear your own kid call you insane. 

Billy gives a sarcastic smile, meanness slipping in his eyes. “C’mon, we should be asking you that. You sure you want two young boys like us hangin’ around in your kitchen past dark?” Steve laughs, honest and deep, making Billy’s heart skip more than one beat, and Joyce cracks a small smirk. 

“Besides,” Steve adds, joy still in his words. “It’s gonna be dark real soon.” He jerks his chin to the kitchen window. Outside, Castle Byers was up against the sunset, darkening red and orange light sliding through the branches, painting the white sheet that poses as door amber. “Shouldn’t take too long until we can try it.”

And it does not. Joyce decides to make dinner, a simple mac and cheese, and the two of them get up to help. Before they know it, they’re turning the kitchen’s lights on, no more sunlight to keep it illuminated, and seating down to eat. Steve eats just enough to keep suspicion off him, moving his food around like it does anything to lessen the amount of pasta in his plate. 

Werewolves have no problem with food, none whatsoever. In fact, they eat more because their organism runs faster, which makes them burn through calories like they’re nothing. Vampires, though, are different. Steve only needs blood to survive and blood alone can keep him alive - human food does nothing for them and, on top of that, tastes terrible. Steve learned to deal with the taste in all the years they lived among the humans but tries to avoid any situation that requires eating. 

Joyce lights a cigarette as soon as they’re done, nervous energy rolling off of her in waves. Billy can’t decide what would be the worst situation: not being able to talk to Will or talking to him and not being able to help him. Steve is the first one to get up, Billy close behind him, patting Joyce’s shoulder as he passes. They wait for her in the living room and she takes long seconds, _steeling herself_ , Billy thinks. If this doesn’t work they might as well consider the boy dead, like the rest of the town already does. 

Joyce walks to the living room like a woman walking to her execution, but the second she steps into the room, all the house’s lights flash a couple of times. Billy is paralyzed next to the coffee table, shocked, but Steve is looking in amazement to the lights. Joyce, for the first time in the whole time they knew her, smiles from ear to ear with a gentle tremble to her lower lip. 

“Good boy!” She says, low and proud. “Is that you, Will?” 

The lights blink once. _Yes._

“Will, these are Billy and Steve, they’re your brother’s friends. They’re going to help mama find you.” The lights blink again then the ‘H’ and the ‘I’ light up in the wall. _HI._

Steve and Billy exchange an impressed glance. The kid is indeed talking to them through the lights - _what the hell?._ Of course, there’s the matter that the only thing confirming the identity of their interlocutor is their own word, but that is a problem for later. For now, Billy only cares about the missing 11-year-old saying _HI_ with the wall.

“Hello! I’m Steve.” Steve’s voice is chirpy, probably more for the kid’s sake than for them.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m Billy.” He glances at Joyce and she has kept the smile and the tears. “How you holding up?” 

Joyces quickly grabs a pen and pad that were on the table and starts to jot down the sequence of the glowing lights in the wall. She frowns, smile slipping, when the flashing stops and she has the whole sentence. 

“‘Not so well’ he said.” 

And Billy is suddenly 100% focused on Will, Joyce’s well-being leaving the forefront of his mind to be replaced by her son’s. He needs to help save this boy, won’t have another child dying on him again. Billy stares at the scrawled letters at the wall, thinking of the best way to extract information from a scared and fearful kid that can only talk with lights.

Steve addresses Joyce, his head going in the same direction of Billy’s. “Did he say anything about where he was yesterday?”

“He only repeated ‘cold’ and ‘danger’ over and over.” 

“Kid, can you tell us where you are or anything about where you are?” Billy asks Will, hoping for more than ‘cold’ and ‘danger’.

The lights start flickering. _R, I, G, H, T, H, E, R, E._

“‘Right here’.” Billy repeats and carries on, going further. “Right here how, Will? I’m not seeing you.” 

The lights spark again, the same sequence, faster, followed by _I, D, N, T, K, N, O, W._

Steve’s the one murmuring now. “‘Right here. I don’t know. Right here,” He looks around, uselessly, then at Billy, shrugging. “I don’t know’.”

“Okay then, Will.” Billy maintains a calming voice, Joyce mute by his side and Steve’s looking everywhere, moving around the room. “You’re right here. You don’t know how you’re right here. It’s cold and it’s dangerous.” He summarises. “Are you in the house or out of it?”

The flashing is almost instantaneous. _I, N._ Billy can’t be sure, but if he has to bet, he would bet Will is getting anxious. They have to wrap this up and head to safer territory to calm the boy down. 

“Okay, you’re in the house and it’s cold and dangerous. Can you tell me where you are in the house?”

_S, O, F, A._ Billy looks and sees nothing. Joyce does something between a sob and a wail and sits in an armchair. The house’s lights start to waver without rhythm. Steve leaves the living room, still looking around.

“It’s okay, Will.” Billy is fast to try to diffuse whatever emotional storm is brewing in the kid he can’t see. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter we can’t see you, we’ll find you anyway. I just need you to take a few deep breaths.” The lights become stable again. “That’s it, very good.” 

Let it be known that techniques to bring someone down from a panic attack work with invisible kids too. Billy lets out the breath he was holding. One crisis averted. 

“Guys,” It’s Steve hooting from the little laundry room from the other side of the house, behind the kitchen. “the light here doesn’t stop wavering. It’s sparkling like crazy.”

Billy turns to the wall, as if he can see little Will Byers sitting in front of him on the sofa. “Kiddo, is that you?”

Fast glowing lights. _N, O._ Then faster, almost like a warning. _N, O, N, O, N, O, N, O, N, O, N, O, N, O._

Billy rises his hands in a calming fashion, a surrender sign. “Alright, Will, it’s not you.” For Steve, he yells. “Harrington, get in here.” He adds a _‘now!_ ’ when the christmas lights keep screaming ‘ _NO’_ at them. 

Joyce is up in hush, dread filling her face. “What is it, Will? What is it, son?”

The lights carry on in their silent chant. _N, O, N, O, N, O, N, O, N, O, N, O, N, O._ Steve is by Billy’s side now, alarmed at the commotion. 

“Will,” Steve tries. “we can’t understand you like that, kid.” But it has no effect on the lights.

Billy checks in with his boyfriend, feeling goosebumps in his whole body, his wolf instincts starting to scream ‘ _danger’_ at him, and Steve is just as confused, although not apprehensive yet. 

Billy talks. “Kiddo, what can we do? Can we do anything? What do you need us to do?” He spills rapidly and that has a reaction from Will’s lights. 

Not a good one, though.

_R, U, N, R, U, N, R, U, N, R, U, N, R, U, N, R, U, N, R, U, N, R, U, N, R, U, N, R, U, N._

 _RUN._ Billy goes rigid. Joyce widens her eyes by his side and Steve is already moving, grabbing their backpacks. 

The blond turns to Joyce, who’s facing the wall, horror on her face.

“Joyce, we gotta go. There’s something weird in this house, I feel it. We have to go.” 

She looks at him, shaking her head. “No, Will is here. I have to stay with him.” 

“Joyc-” He’s interrupted by a low, deep grumbling. Billy spins, Joyce’s arm in his hand yet, just to see the fucking TV wall moving like quicksand and a clawed hand - if he can call that a hand, it’s obviously not human - move through it. Joyce screams, still paralyzed. 

Steve is by Joyce’s other side now, talking. “Will told us to run. _Will told us to run._ Let's go!” He goes for the door, Joyce running behind him and Billy in the rear of their little monster-escaping group. 

Billy runs for the driver’s side of his Camaro, Steve for the passenger and Joyce for the back when they hear the most blood-curdling roar from the house. The house’s lights are all flickering, still warning, still screaming at them to _RUN._

Billy floors the accelerator pedal and they drive off the Byers’ driveway, tires squealing, leaving the flashing lights behind. He drives them to the Harringtons, obviously. Billy doesn’t know what the holy hell that thing was and has even less desire to learn - not that they have a choice, since that clearly has something to do with Will, possibly being what took him. Billy doesn’t have any doubts about Will’s identity either because if that whole thing wasn’t Will, they would have to save this person anyway - might as well believe it’s Will.

He slows down to a stop in their driveway but makes no move to get out. He just sits there, breathing, calming down his racing heart. He looks at his hands at the wheel and realizes his nails are longer, sharper than normal - that means his teeth must be pointed too. Another breath, focused, and his slight transformation is back under control. 

Billy isn’t the only one having problems. He looks at Steve and motions pointedly to his eyes. As much as the blond likes the dark vampire-y look, a human woman - a very traumatized one at that - is right behind them, seated slumped against the seats with a hand, conveniently, covering her eyes while the other clutches at her shirt above her heart. Steve closes his eyes and stills, trying to control his eyes, and Billy turns to Joyce.

“Joyce?” He asks, softly. She grunts in response. “How are you doing?”

She drops her hands onto the leather seat and stares at him. “How am I doing?” A rough laugh that Billy can’t tell if it’s panic or not. “Was I the only one that saw a fucking monster almost claw his way out of my living room wall?” Another giggle. 

Billy smirks and answers. “No, Joyce, you were not the only one. Or do you think I normally just run out of houses like that?” 

Steve snorts next to him. A beat passes and they all explode in laughter. Billy knows it’s just the shock and the trauma, but that doesn’t stop him. 

They laugh all their energy out and the car becomes silent once again. 

Steve, seated on his side, looks to Billy and Joyce and asks. “What the hell are we going to do?” 

Billy replies before Joyce gets any ideas. “We’ll go in, eat something and sleep ‘till the morning.” Joyce starts to protest, but Billy carries on. “Then we,” He gestures to the space between Steve and him. “are gonna ditch and take you home, Joyce, and check out that wall while we’re at it. Hopefully,” He shrugs, grimacing. “that thing can’t show up in daylight just like we can’t talk to Will. 

“Yeah, it’s a good plan. You good with-” Steve looks to Joyce, who has one of her fingers raised, pointing at them, with exasperation in her face. “What is it?” He asks with bewilderment in his voice. 

“What is it?” She repeats. “One, you two will not skip classes tomorrow. Two, I have to go home tonight, I don’t have clothes or anything!” 

“C’mon, Joyce,” Steve whines back at her, the brat. “we half-faced, almost fought a monster tonight! We’re not going to school tomorrow! And there’s no way in hell we are gonna let you go back to that house tonight! There’s a monster there!” He lowers his voice back to a normal level. “Besides, I have a spare bedroom and some of my mom’s stuff, I’m sure she won’t care if you borrow it. C’mon.”

With that, he opens the car and gets out. Billy winks at Joyce through the rearview window.

“Harrington is right, Joyce. Let’s go.” He, too, gets out with Joyce in tow. She gapes a bit at the house and Billy knows exactly what she’s feeling. 

The Harrington’s property is big and the house is very proportional to it. It’s a two-story white victorian-style house and Steve doesn’t know when it was built, but he knows it was a while ago. The front steps lead to a big porch with decorated balusters and to warm brown double doors. Too bad it’s dark and the lights aren’t on yet because he knows Joyce’s chin would fall to the floor - the illumination makes the house look like it came right out of a dream, soft and rich amber light flowing through the white curtains making the porch seem incredibly inviting.

Billy can’t deny it: it might be a rich person’s house, but, damn, is it pretty. 

He climbs the steps, Steve having opened the door already, and takes his boots off, shedding his leather jacket too. Joyce does the same and they find Steve puttering around the kitchen. 

“Since we ate dinner at your’s, Joyce, I was thinking about sandwiches?” He asks, pulling a ton of shit from the fridge. 

“Why don’t you show Joyce the bedroom and I do the food?” Billy asks, remembering that he isn’t supposed to live here and, therefore, not supposed to know where stuff is. They don’t know how observant the older woman is after the night they had, but Billy isn’t risking it. 

“Boys, again, I don’t-” Joyce starts, but Steve interrupts her, voice pleading. 

“Do you really think going back is the best option right now?

Joyce opens her mouth to answer, but doesn’t say anything. 

“So let’s just eat something and then crash, you know? We’ll take you home first thing in the morning.” 

Joyce looks at Steve, conflicted, then turns to Billy, who is still at the kitchen’s threshold. 

“Are you staying too?” She thinks for a second but doesn’t give Billy the time to answer. “I mean, at least Steve is talking like you are.” 

Billy throws a flat look at Steve. “Hell yeah, Joyce, I’m staying.” He smirks, hoping to distract the brunette. “It’s not like we can trust Harrington to deal with any wall-crawler monster on his own.”

Steve scoffs, fake-affronted. “And you’re oh-so-helpful in monster fighting, huh, Hargrove.” He shakes his head, a small grin playing on the edge of his lips. “C’mon, Joyce, I’ll show you the room and get you some clothes while Billy makes the sandwiches.” 

The two of them leave the kitchen and Billy enters it, starting to separate the ingredients he would need. He makes a simple grilled cheese for Joyce, for she looked a little shaken up yet - after all, it’s stomach-churning to think about little Will Byers close enough to that monster to know when it would attack them. He wouldn’t want to eat anything if that was his kid either. But it isn’t and he is a fully-grown werewolf, so he makes two big egg, bacon and cheese sandwiches, knowing he’d get Steve’s as soon as Joyce was out of the room.

He’s putting the plates on the dining room table - because rich people’s houses don't have tables inside their kitchen - when they walk back. Their second dinner-slash-night snack is a quick affair. Billy was right - Joyce looks like she can’t take another bite by the time she’s done. With a brief thanks and a warning to not stay up too late, she’s off to her room. 

Billy finishes Steve’s sandwich while he massages Billy’s calves that are resting on his lap. Steve likes touching Billy just as much as Billy enjoys being touched. Steve is all cord-tight muscles, lean and slender body, but Billy is heavy and solid flesh under Steve’s fingers, skin hot and golden from New Orleans’ sun. Steve can look at him forever and not get tired of the view, he’s sure, so that’s what he does, sitting in silence with Joyce Byers in one of his downstairs guest rooms.

“Are you okay there, sweetheart?” Billy asks after a while of Steve staring at him with a glazed look in his eyes. He would get like this sometimes, too deep into his own mind, so Billy just waits a little before bringing him back. 

“Yeah, it’s just,” He sighs, putting his left arm on the table and his head on his hand. “this whole situation. This,” he jerks his head in the direction of Joyce’s room. “was definitely not in our plans.”

Billy gets up, feet leaving Steve’s lap, and stands between his boyfriend’s legs, keeping an ear out for Joyce if she leaves her room. Steve gives him the space and reaches for Billy’s waist. The blond caresses his face then scratches his scalp gently, mussing up the perfectly done brown hair. Billy’s hands grasp the vampire’s neck, massaging the area, and Steve’s head drops, forehead against hard abs. 

“You’re tired, love. When was the last time you fed?” He thinks for a moment and adds. “The fact that I can’t remember is enough for it to be too long.”

Billy’s hands leave fire-hot trails as they linger on Steve’s skin. 

“I think it was before that get-together,” Steve says, voice muffled in his boyfriend shirt. “I was good in the fight.”

Billy hums disapprovingly. “C’mon then. Bath and food for you.” Steve keeps on clinging to his waist, not moving. “And for me it will be the most well-deserved night of sleep that I have had in awhile.” 

Billy moves and Steve goes, dragging his feet just a bit. The shower is as quick as they can make it when they’re washing and cuddling each other. Billy doesn’t bother with pajamas as he lays face down on the bed. Steve shuffles in the bathroom a bit then is sliding up Billy’s body, dropping kisses in the sun-kissed skin. Billy smiles. 

They move around the bed, trading lazy kisses, until Steve is seated against the headboard and Billy’s in his lap. The vampire kisses Billy’s throat and he shivers - the feeling of those cold-as-fuck lips on his over-heated skin was the best thing Billy ever hoped to experience. That chilly touch on his arms, his sides, his thighs, all over him, in him was the closest to god that he would ever be. 

“Stop teasing, pretty boy, or I’ll leave you hanging.” He huffs against Steve’s shoulder and his boyfriend laughs. Steve moves his right hand up Billy’s chest, gently grabbing his throat, angling his face as he wants.

“You would leave a poor, sad vampire hungry?” Steve asks with a full-fanged grin and a twinkle in his eyes. Billy rolls his eyes back at his very dramatic partner. 

“I totally would. 100%. Start moving.” 

Billy’s only response was a deep laugh. Steve draws their heads close, resting forehead with forehead.

“You sure you want this, babe?”

“I’ve said _yes_ to this question for forty years, darling, and that isn’t changing anytime soon.” 

“Alright, but I’m gonna keep on asking it.” Steve says fondly, and lets Billy’s head fall to his shoulder. He nuzzles the smooth skin of Billy’s neck, pressing a soft kiss there before opening his mouth and biting.

Billy’s body goes pliant in Steve’s arms, like every other time they’ve done this, endorphins being released into Billy’s bloodstream by the vampire’s fangs. It takes less than five minutes for Steve to be satisfied - it was a matter of trial and error for them to find the perfect amount of blood to quench Steve’s hunger and to not let Billy too out of it.

Before meeting and falling for Billy, Steve had only heard tales about vampires that feed on werewolves' blood - about the strength, energy and power that their blood grants. It’s different from human blood, which would suffice for a couple of days whereas werewolves’ blood would do the trick for more than a whole week besides the rush of vitality it gives. 

The first time they attempted this, Steve had barely been conscious. They were in Washington, jumping from city to city, when they were caught in the crossfire of a fight between two regional vampire clans. It was a simple attack, and all the more effective because of it - a human walked up to them when they were making out in an alley beside a nightclub and threw a handful of powdered silver at their faces. It didn’t do anything to Billy, but Steve fell down immediately.

Of all the possible ways of killing a vampire, he thought of powdered silver as the worst of them - it wasn’t instantaneously lethal, but it hurt like hell. In Steve’s case, he breathed in the silver and it burned his respiratory system from the inside out, and it would have kept on burning if it wasn't for Billy. 

Billy had never seen something like that - Steve was gasping like a fish out of water, hands clutching his throat and chest, eyes red and fangs out, but he wasn’t making any noise as he fell to the floor. The blond didn’t really know what to do, it wasn't like he had a course on how to treat silver effects on vampires, but he knew what would help any vampire’s healing process: feeding. 

So Billy went down to the ground with Steve, grabbed him by his hair and made him sink his fangs in the wrist Billy held out - only let him drink for a few seconds, but was enough for him to get a bit groggy and relaxed, loose. The werewolf didn’t think it worked for a few excruciating seconds, then Steve stopped gasping and his hands unclenched and he slowly opened his eyes. They were slumped against the brick wall of the alley, Steve coming back to consciousness and Billy resting off the vertigo. They managed to get home fine, but were leaving the state two days later. 

Later, having experienced first hand what werewolf blood could do for a vampire, Billy was more willing to be fed on and Steve was more willing to feed on him. After some years, it became a habit - it was easier and less risky than hunting. 

But, even if Steve only drinks barely more than a liter, Billy gets soft and tired, so they always do this before bed. Next morning, Billy will be totally recovered, all shining blue eyes, innuendos and plush lips that will stretch into a genuine smile as he wakes and makes Steve fall for him all over again. 

Steve deposits the blond on the bed and lies down next to him. “You okay there, love?”

“Sure.” He says, lazily. His hand bridges the small distance between them and grabs Steve’s waist, shuffling closer and wrapping himself around his boyfriend's cold body. Steve combs through golden locks and decides that’s how he’ll spend the night, Billy’s strong heartbeat isolating them inside their little world.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it! kudos and comments are super welcome! if you enjoy my work, please consider supporting me! see you guys next time!


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